A Dollar Can't Hurt

You might remember that Mrs HM is not very tolerant of beggars. Panhandlers or legitimate charity solicitors, I rarely contribute. I have my selected charities to which I donate, by check, on a yearly basis.

 

Friday, I was accosted by a little girl and adult man as I hobbled into the Gas Station Chicken Store. They were set up by the door, in front of the window. I'm not even sure if they had permission. They were essentially standing/sitting in the drive by the gas pumps. 

 

I was clutching a $60-winner scratcher. I'm not sure what the charity was. The Man was holding an opaque plastic container that reminded me of a hospital urinal given to men patients to do their business in bed. The Little Girl asked if I wanted to donate to help sick people get better. How was I supposed to answer that???

 

"It's only a dollar. And you get a Tootsie Roll."

 

"Um. Sorry. I only have this big lottery ticket."

I went in and did my business. I usually spend $9 in there. A $3 crossword, a $3 purple picture ticket, and a Cash4Life draw ticket for The Pony. I cashed in my $60 winner and got back $51 in change.

"I'm going to give this dollar to that little girl for her charity. I couldn't exactly give her that $60 winner when I came in. It wouldn't fit in the container, heh, heh!"

"Oh, that's nice. She couldn't have cashed in that ticket anyway! She's not 18!"

I wasn't doing it to be nice. But she was such a bold little thing, sitting there on a kid-size lawn chair, eating a sucker while her companion held out the money jug.

I walked past and stuffed the dollar in the jug. "Here ya go. I've got change now."

"Thank you! Don't you want some Tootsie Rolls?" said the Man.

"Nope. Don't need 'em."

"Thank you," said the Little Girl.

I really wish whatever this Tootsie Roll charity is would give people a name tag or paper apron or something to advertise the charity. There's a lot of beggars afoot these days.

Wouldn't You Like To Buy Some Pepper, Too

No. I did not buy pepper when I shopped at Country Mart on Thursday. I have plenty of pepper, thanks. Not long ago I filled my metal grinder thingy gifted by my best old ex-teaching buddy Mabel. It requires tearing a paper plate in half, making a makeshift funnel, and pouring in the peppercorns from a plastic container. THEN comes the hardest part of lining up the two little holes and pointy thingies that make sure the grinder is put back together right. This used to be Genius's job. Then The Pony's. Now I'm on my own.

 

After perusing the spice selection, I felt woozy! SO MANY SPICES! That's just the basics. There was another section the same size, to the right. The Pony would go hog wild in here!

 

 

Anyhoo... a comment from blog buddy River made me curious about the pepper selection. So many spices, so little attention span to focus on what's there! I was looking for a self-grinding version of black pepper. Nope. Not here. Or IS IT???

 

I was shocked at the price of ground pepper! That's $8.98 for a 6 oz. tin of name brand ground black pepper!

 

 

But look what it says on the label ABOVE the black pepper! SELF GRINDER. I think. When I zoomed in, it was something like that. So I had to look back at the big picture to see if it was actually in stock. That's debatable. Maybe? One item? PEPCORN GRNDR $5.48 for 2.5 oz., it says. 

I would zoom in on the big picture and show that area, but BLOGGER has been playing up and showing out all evening, and I don't have the desire to fight it any more. So you'll have to make do with what's here. And even that I begrudge you! Stupid BLOGGER!

My Amazing Success Would Have Been Tempered By My Abject Failure

One of my favorite TV shows is The Amazing Race. I've watched it from the beginning. That's how I see the world! Surely you don't think Mrs. HM would hoist her ample rumpus on a plane and circumnavigate the globe!

Young Genius used to be my viewing partner. We'd pick teams on the first episode, and see who came out the closest to winning. We rarely chose the same teams. When he was around 10 or 11, Genius used to joke that he and I should try to enter and compete on The Amazing Race. Sadly, I'm not so sure he was joking!

Here's the thing... even at 11, Genius would have been the strength of our team. Unless he did something like leave his passport in a taxi, like that poor team of deaf dude and his mom. I have limited talents that might apply. Forget teaching me a dance or a song in a foreign language, or detecting the minute differences in classic paintings, or diving down to unhook puzzle pieces off the ocean floor.

Last night, The Amazing Race had THE PERFECT CHALLENGE for Mrs. HM! They had to listen to an 8-minute lecture on anatomy, and label body parts on a wooden plank body. YES! I could have done that with both left and right cerebral hemispheres tied behind my vertebrae! Seriously! They had to label parts like the LIVER, for cryin' out loud! And the humerus. And coccyx. And metacarpals. And clavicle. I couldn't see everything, but there were 16 answers, and they were given about 20 labels, so some didn't get used. After my classes in human anatomy and physiology, I am still quite prepared to spout off body parts! I could have skipped the entire lecture, by cracky!

However... the second challenge was putting together a Ducati motorcycle! Sweet Gummi Mary! I couldn't have done that with everyone else's cerebral hemispheres combined! Sure, they had a dude demonstrating what to do. And they only had to put on the wheels and brakes, then screw on the body. It's not like they had to build a 747 from scratch. Still, I am not in the least bit mechanically inclined.

I'm pretty sure this is the leg that would have eliminated me and Young Genius if I had been responsible for that Ducati. If HE did it, we might have won the leg.

The Pony's Sweet Tooth Leads Him Astray

The Pony also tried making dessert last week. He was lacking a prime ingredient, and added another not in the original recipe. So he was not thrilled with the results. He said it tasted fine, but the appearance was a bit off-putting.

 

The Pony used the microwave fudge recipe given to him by blog buddy Sioux. He was missing the sweetened condensed milk, or maybe just didn't have enough. And he added some butterscotch chips he had on hand. Here it is before he brewed his cauldron.

The Pony said the butterscotch chips were a mistake, because they melt differently than the regular semisweet and milk chocolate chips. He was taken aback by the appearance of the final product:

 

His cauldron is a bowl that I gave him, which is part of a set of Pioneer Woman merch from the Devil's Playground. I need to advise him to be careful while cooking with GLASS, before it hurts him like a hot steak!

Anyhoo... The Pony said his fudge tasted just fine, but he wasn't fond of the texture nor the appearance. I bet none of it was wasted.

If You Are Invited To A Pony Dinner...

You might want to think twice, if you receive an invitation to dine with The Pony. Ask some questions. The main one being: "When was the last time you went to the store?" Another inquiry might be: "When was the last time you had butter fingers?"

 

Yes, it would be nice to have steak, if you didn't have to drive The Pony to the ER with a burned thumb. You'd get a good meal. But when it's been a while since he shopped, you might not like the fare as much. Like this entree:

 

 

That appears to be a wrap of rigatoni and alfredo sauce. Good for a vegetarian. Or perhaps someone planning to run a marathon the next day. Or those on a bland diet after surgery.

If you can stand a bit more spice, then this might be the meal for you:

 

By "a bit more spice," I actually mean a rumpusload of spice, way to much for the average person, and not intended to be on the menu. I'm pretty sure that was intended to be the inside of a burrito. Chicken, black beans, rice... and what appears to be oregano. The Pony DID mention his previous mishap at the Mansion, when the lid came off of the red pepper flakes. I don't know how such a thing could happen again with another spice. And I don't know who puts oregano in a burrito. Maybe it was something else. IN EXCESS!

Anyhoo... The Pony is an adventurous chef, and will at least give you a quantity that will fill your belly. Whether your belly wants to keep it is the question.

Feeding the (Sweet, Sweet) Beast

After Farmer H endured my interrogation about the (stolen) dog food and the de-wormer medicine on Saturday, he proceeded to mix up a dish of food for Sweet, Sweet Juno. I could hear him on the porch.

"Juno! JUNO! Come on and eat! NO! Jack! Get away from there! That's not yours!"

I heard and then saw Juno trot around the porch, past the kitchen windows, and heard her lapping water from the dish by the laundry room door. Then she went skipping back, on her three legs, still favoring that back one with the mystery injury.

"Okay. Come on. JACK! NO! Get out of here! Junoooo. Come on."

I wanted to go to the door, and once again inform him that he was scaring Juno by talking harshly to Jack. But when I do that, the dogs come running to the kitchen door for a treat. So I sent a text: "If she won't eat it, bring it in, and we'll give it to her later." I got no response. After another five minutes, I went to the door and told Farmer H. "I sent you a text!"

"I know. I got it."

You know. I'm supposed to be a mind-reader. Farmer H carried in a full dish of dry/canned dog food. He said he had put her de-wormer in it. So she needed to finish eating to get the rest of the medicine.

 

"I actually gave her two cans. She ate the first one, with half the medicine, but now she's not eating the second one." 

Of course not. Not in the midst of the 3-ring circus that is Farmer H trying to coax her. When I got back from town about 90 minutes later, I set the dish in Juno's house. She started lapping at it right away. Polished off the whole bowl. In the privacy of her abode, where she wasn't worried about a pair of Jacks stealing it.

Farmer H said that both Juno and Jack ate the new dry food when he dished it out on Sunday morning. He also put a can of food on more dry food for Juno later that afternoon. And around 9:30, I gave her a thawed frozen dinner from 2017: Beef Stroganoff. Dogs are handy disposals for cleaning out the freezer!

I think Juno might be looking a tiny bit less emaciated. Farmer H agreed. Maybe I'm just seeing her after she's gorged herself after multiple feedings. At least she acts like she feels okay, and is not refusing food.

Farmer H's Charmed Life

Farmer H does indeed lead a charmed life. Evidenced enough by the fact that I have not relegated him to the dog house to slumber with my Sweet, Sweet Juno. I could never do that to her.

Speaking of my special fleabag... Farmer H FINALLY bought the de-worming medicine for her on Saturday, after his stint at his Storage Unit Store. Before you go patting him on the back, please realize that the place he bought it is RIGHT BY HIS STORAGE UNIT STORE. Seriously. Pull out of the parking lot, make an immediate right turn, and you're there. 

Because Farmer H has been so forgetful in getting this possible remedy for what ails Juno, he told me on Friday night to remind him Saturday. 

"Send me a text so I don't forget. I'll leave my store early so I'm not late for the auction, and go to the Devil's Playground to get her medicine and some different dog food."

"Okay. They're going to need cedar shavings, too. It's been getting down in the 30s at night."

So I sent Farmer H a text at 10:20. "Dog food and wormer and cedar shavings." He never replied.

Once home, Farmer H gave me the receipt:

 

"Hey! What are these circus peanuts?"

"Circus peanuts."

"I know WHAT they are. I didn't know they're good food for Juno."

"They weren't for Juno. They're for me."

"Huh. You know they're pure sugar. I don't see them. Did you eat the whole bag already?"

"No... they're out in the truck."

"So you didn't get dog food?"

"I got dog food."

"It's not on the receipt."

"Well, I bought it. Let me see. Huh. Well. Maybe she didn't ring it up. It was under the cedar shavings. Diamond Adult Maintenance. It's in a yellow bag, with blue on the sides."

So you see what he's done again? Farmer H has gotten out of a store with a product he has not paid for. But thought he did. Gotta say, I don't add up my purchases in my head when I go to the store. I just plop it on the conveyor, and jam my card into the reader. I don't check it when I go out, just to write down the total, unless something doesn't seem right.

I hope there's not an APB out for his arrest...